


The One Where Goemon Bangs Yata in a Weird Underground Death Labyrinth

by doodledinmypants



Series: Yata’s Excellent Side Twink Adventures [2]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Crack, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Fujiko and Jigen are barely in this I'm so sorry I did them dirty, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, a little bit crack anyway, dubcon, it's the LaCroix of plot, maybe a whiff of plot, not to be taken seriously just roll with it, offscreen implied FuJig, offscreen implied LoopZoop, what is plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28630269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodledinmypants/pseuds/doodledinmypants
Summary: The Lupin gang plus Zenigata and Yata have been trapped in one of those funky death labyrinths! (Who makes and maintains all these labyrinths, anyway?) Everyone has been separated, and Goemon is stuck babysitting Yata. Except maybe Yata isn't as useless as he looks. Oh, and then there's an airborne aphrodisiac and they have to bang or die. You know, just normal Lupin III stuff.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Yatagarasu Gorou
Series: Yata’s Excellent Side Twink Adventures [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097663
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	The One Where Goemon Bangs Yata in a Weird Underground Death Labyrinth

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't sleep and wrote this in a fugue state. I don't know what the fuck is going on anymore. Hopefully it's at least a fun ride.

“It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Yata said, edging his way carefully around the pit full of alligators. Crocodiles? Some sort of large, bitey reptile. Didn’t really matter. “Where do all of these people get their underground labyrinths full of traps? Is there a specialist construction company or something? Do they do group discounts? What do they feed these animals when they don’t have hapless victims falling into the pits?”

His companion, as expected, said nothing. Yata sighed. He’d tried engaging the samurai in conversation a number of times while they navigated the endless stonework maze, but Goemon Ishikawa XIII was as taciturn as ever. He only spoke to warn Yata of a trap, or to provide yes or no answers when Yata asked a question he found worthy of acknowledging. Normally, Yata would be fine with that—Goemon’s ‘strong, silent type’ thing was all part of his mystique—but they’d been trapped down here for _hours_ , cut off from Inspector Zenigata and Lupin’s gang. Yata hoped that Zenigata wasn’t all on his own down here, wandering around helplessly. No, the inspector was more resourceful than that; he was probably out already, or forming a plan with the others by now. He and Goemon just had to find them. 

As Yata rounded a corner, he was suddenly jerked back by his jacket collar as the air whistled in front of his nose. An iron bolt, like from a crossbow, twanged in the stone wall, right where his head had been. He yelped, scrambling back, only to have strong hands grip his upper arms to hold him steady.

“Stay behind me,” Goemon instructed, voice low and clipped. Yata nodded vigorously and let Goemon take the lead. He walked as closely in the samurai’s footsteps as he dared. Every so often, Goemon’s hands would twitch on his sword’s hilt, there’d be a flash and the ringing of metal, and an iron bolt would fall neatly to the ground in two or more pieces. Yata was still astonished at how fast he moved. 

“So cool,” Yata breathed, and though he thought he was being quiet enough, he could see Goemon’s ears turn red and his shoulders hitch up a fraction. Oh? That was interesting. At least he was getting a reaction for once. He pressed on to see if he could get a verbal response, too: “Seeing you in action, especially this close, is just incredible.”

Goemon’s shoulders jerked again and Yata could see the blush creep down his neck. _Oh no, he’s cute_ , Yata thought, feeling the heat rise in his own face.

“It’s nothing,” Goemon mumbled, quickening his pace. “Keep up.”

The next chamber had a spiked ceiling that slowly lowered towards them while all of the exits closed off. Another classic. The doors were no match for Zantetsuken, however, so aside from being slightly winded from sprinting across the room, they were fine. 

“You really can cut through anything, can’t you?” Yata said, awed, as they took a moment to catch their breath. 

Goemon blushed again, but he seemed to have regained some control over his reactions because it only touched his cheeks this time. A pity, Yata thought. “You are easily impressed. I have merely cut through worthless objects in our path.”

It was the longest string of words Yata had gotten out of Goemon, so he considered it a victory. “Maybe you’re used to it, and maybe Lupin and the others are, too, but most people don’t get to see a guy cut through a stone door a foot thick with a sword. Or slice arrows and bullets out of the air while they’re being shot. So, I think right now I am the correct amount of impressed.”

Though Goemon tried to remain stoic, Yata could see the corners of his mouth twitch briefly. “Unlike the inspector, I do not require a fanboy.”

“Ouch,” Yata said, giving him a wounded pout. “Your sword’s not the only thing that cuts deep.”

That startled a laugh out of Goemon, deep and resonant. He looked good when he laughed. Younger, maybe, or just more relaxed. Yata beamed triumphantly. Progress! 

“Come. We should keep moving.” Goemon was definitely more relaxed now, Yata could tell by the line of his back and the way he held his shoulders. Still alert, but more comfortable in Yata’s presence than before. 

The joy Yata got from his small victory was short-lived, unfortunately, as the floor dropped unexpectedly out from under them and became a steep incline. Their shouts of surprise (and terror, in Yata’s case) echoed around them as they slid into darkness. A strong arm circled Yata’s waist and, with a stomach-turning lurch, he came to a halt. Goemon had grabbed hold of a ledge at the side of the chute and stopped them from falling all the way to the bottom of… wherever the slide was taking them. 

Yata wrapped his own arms around Goemon’s waist so the samurai could free his other hand to pull them up into a niche in the wall. It was a tight fit, but Yata didn’t mind staying close as he struggled to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. “Thank you,” he whispered, head bowed until his hair brushed Goemon’s chest. “You keep saving my life. I’m not sure why, but really, thanks.”

Goemon shifted uncertainly in the darkness. He put a warm hand on Yata’s shoulder, gently putting some distance between them. “I may be a criminal, but I am not without honor. Inspector Zenigata is a good man, and he is obviously fond of you. I would not wish you to come to harm through my inaction. But please, do not mistake this for anything more than it is.”

An even longer speech than before, but now Yata only felt the cold knot of rejection in his gut. “Ah, of course. I understand. Once we’re out of here…”

“We will once again be enemies,” Goemon confirmed. “I do not kill needlessly, but I will still do what I must if you get in my way.”

Yata felt a shiver run through him at the implied threat. He squared his shoulders, unwilling to be intimidated. “Then you should know, I will do what I must to help the inspector capture you and your allies.”

Goemon nodded curtly, but something in his posture had relaxed again. He seemed satisfied with this arrangement. “Understood. For now, our truce stands. Let us keep moving.”

The niche was actually a sort of narrow corridor, and they were able to follow it to a staircase which led up to a new chamber. Yata was immediately on the alert for traps, scanning the room from over Goemon’s shoulder. This room was well-lit, and there were small holes in the walls near the ceiling. There was, of all things, a bed in the center of the room. 

“I don’t like this,” Yata muttered. “Maybe we should go back.”

“We need to keep heading upwards,” Goemon said. “I can see more stairs through that door.”

“The floor is booby-trapped,” Yata pointed out. “Look closely: some of the stone tiles are raised just slightly, like they’re on top of a pressure plate.”

“Ah, so it is.” Now Goemon sounded impressed. “I see why Zenigata chose you as a partner.”

The unexpected praise nearly made Yata swoon. “Th-thank you. Um, maybe we can get through here after all. The way the tiles are spaced, we can avoid the pressure plates if we step carefully. We might need to jump over some of them, though.”

Goemon nodded. “Can you lead the way? I will keep an eye out for other traps, and follow where you step.”

Yata swelled with pride and saluted before remembering that Goemon wasn’t a fellow officer. “Leave it to me!”

Gingerly, Yata picked his way through the room, taking a winding path to avoid the numerous pressure plates. There was definitely a safe way out, but the small, uneven tiles were difficult to navigate as it was, and sometimes it was hard to tell if a tile was trapped or just poorly laid. Once, Yata had to backtrack several feet when he reached an area where he couldn’t tell if any of the tiles were safe. Goemon offered no complaint or criticism, simply retracing his steps until Yata could find a new direction to try. 

As they passed the bed in the center of the room, there was a click and a rumble as some mechanism in the walls activated. “The doors!”

Goemon could cut it open, but they still didn’t want to wait around to see what the next part of the trap was. They stepped and hopped as quickly as they were able to for the door with the stairs, but it groaned shut before they could reach it. Then, the floor began to shake, throwing Yata off balance. His foot came down on one of the pressure plates. The holes near the ceiling hissed as a pink mist filled the room. Yata covered his nose and mouth with one arm and dropped into a crouch, Goemon following suit. 

“Some sort of gas,” Yata said. He looked to Goemon, guilt written on his face. “I’m sorry, I failed you.”

“We are not defeated yet.” Goemon gave him a grim smile, then stood and dashed for the door. His hand gripped his sword… and he wobbled. Yata scrambled on all fours to reach him and was just in time to catch Goemon before his head hit the floor. “All right. Maybe now we are defeated.”

“Don’t say that!” Yata coughed into his sleeve, covering his face again. He’d breathed in some of the gas and it was making him dizzy. “You’ve made it out of stickier situations than this, haven’t you? It’s not time to give up!”

Goemon’s expression was lax, eyes hazy. That fetching blush was back, though Yata wasn’t sure why. Was it a reaction to the gas? Goemon breathed in deeply and exhaled with a soft noise of… pleasure? 

“It feels good,” Goemon mumbled. He struggled to his feet, then staggered over to the bed, flopping heavily onto the soft mattress. Yata had a fleeting thought that it must have had the linens changed recently, to not have dust flying out of it. Whose job was that? Who had housekeeping services for their weird underground labyrinth dungeons? Was it the same service that kept the alligators fed?

Oh. Yata stood up, swaying. The gas had gotten to him, too. He felt loose and floaty, and the bed looked amazingly comfortable. He stumbled after Goemon and face-planted into the bed beside him. He felt warm, uncomfortably so. Too many clothes. Sitting up, he somehow managed to shed his jacket and tie. Goemon had come to the same conclusion and was stripping off his clothes until he was down to his fundoshi. Yata stared, momentarily distracted from his own disrobing. The heat intensified and pooled in his belly. It was then that Yata realized there was some kind of aphrodisiac in the gas, but by then he had already kicked off his shoes and slacks. 

There was a crackling of static, then the unpleasant laughter of the labyrinth’s owner, Professor Vesper, emitted from a hidden speaker. “I see you’ve found one of my favorite rooms! Congratulations! This is by far the most… pleasant way to escape my labyrinth. All you need to do to leave is give in to my patented airborne love potion!”

“Vesper! You pervert!” yelled Yata, ripping the buttons off his shirt in his struggle to remove it. “We’re not going to do whatever you say just so you can get off on watching us!”

“You can resist, of course,” the disembodied voice said, feigning disappointment, “but then you’ll just have to deal with the green gas instead of the pink. That one will kill you. You have one hour before that one goes off, though. If I’m satisfied with your performance, I’ll turn off the gas and open the doors, and you’ll be free to go.”

“Are we supposed to believe you?” Goemon asked through clenched teeth. He hadn’t lost his grip on his sword, but he was starting to lose his grip on his stoic façade. His flushed face and heavy breathing were doing _things_ to Yata. 

“You don’t have much choice, do you? Well, clock’s ticking! If you want to find your friends, you’ll need to play the game!” Another nasty cackle followed, and then soft, sensual music piped through the speaker, as if to set the mood. Yata grimaced at the mockery. 

“Goemon,” Yata said in a low voice, struggling to focus, “do you think you could make it to the door to cut it open before Vesper releases the death gas?”

“No,” Goemon said. His head hung, long hair falling in his face. “I am weakened and clumsy. I could not even commit seppuku to spare myself this shame.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that! We’re going to get out of here. Both of us. _All_ of us.” Yata reached for Goemon, and the first touch of his hand on Goemon’s bare shoulder made them both gasp as though a current of electricity had arced between them. “Ahh, but we’re going to have to play along for now. Will you trust me?”

Goemon’s head lifted and his dark eyes were a tortured mix of lust and self-loathing. “…Yes.”

Yata’s hand moved from Goemon’s shoulder to his face, tracing over several scars along the way. “Kiss me.”

It was like the shot signaling the start of a race. Goemon surged forward, mouth colliding with Yata’s a little too hard as their teeth clacked, but he reined in his enthusiasm enough to gentle the motion into something more closely resembling a kiss. It was artless and messy, a hot slide of lips and tongues, nipping teeth, harsh breaths through noses and grunts of almost-pain. Yata fell back onto the pillows and let Goemon straddle him, grinding down as he continued to kiss like he was trying to devour Yata whole. Yata wondered who, if anyone Goemon had kissed before this. He decided he didn’t really need the answer.

The grinding felt good, but it was only whetting their appetites for more. Yata shoved awkwardly at his own underwear only to have Goemon rip them off with a snarl. The fundoshi followed almost as quickly. 

“Wait wait wait!” Yata squeaked, putting a hand on Goemon’s chest. “We don’t have any lube.”

The music halted with a record scratch as the speaker crackled again. “Check under the pillows.” The music resumed.

Goemon glared up at the ceiling, but groped around under the pillows until he withdrew a bottle of lubricant. Looking between the bottle and Yata, his hesitation was clear. “Are you certain? I don’t wish to hurt you.”

Nodding, Yata tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

Though his body felt shaky and uncoordinated, Yata managed to turn over and prop himself up on his knees and elbows, making his ass an easier target for Goemon. He could hear Goemon’s dry swallow and allowed himself a private grin. When the first slippery finger breached him, he moaned and pushed back into it, urging it deeper. A second and third followed shortly as Goemon gained more confidence in Yata’s resilience. 

“You have done this before,” Goemon observed, stretching Yata as quickly as he dared.

Yata laughed, breath catching on a groan. “So have you.”

Goemon’s fingers stilled briefly, then curled and rubbed and _there_. Yata moaned loudly and his toes curled. “I have had… some experience, yes.”

“Oh good. That’ll make this easier, then. Go ahead, I’m ready.”

Though Yata had gotten a look at Goemon’s cock, he hadn’t really had a chance to understand quite how big it was until he was being split in half by Goemon’s _other_ sword. A high, breathy whine left him as he widened his stance and tried to relax his muscles. When it was fully sheathed inside him, Goemon gave Yata some time to catch his breath. 

“Are you all right?”

“ _Ffffffuck_ , you’re huge!” Yata panted. “Yeah, okay. I’m good.”

Goemon started slowly, drawing out only an inch or so before pushing back in. Despite how overwhelmed Yata seemed at first, he quickly adapted, meeting Goemon’s hips with his own at every thrust until they established a rhythm. Yata’s moans were unabashedly loud, while Goemon’s low grunts and harsh gasps were significantly quieter. 

Yata forced his eyes open just enough to check on their surroundings. The pink gas was no longer being pumped into the room, though Yata was definitely still feeling the effects. It wasn’t certain how long the ‘love potion’ would last once they weren't directly exposed to it.

“Hold me up,” Yata instructed, pushing off of his elbows and leaning back against Goemon’s chest so that they were both upright. Goemon’s thrusts were shorter in this position, but Yata felt a sharp jolt of pleasure with every pass. He also had a better view of the room. Rolling his head from side to side as though thrashing in pleasure, he whimpered with almost theatrical volume. 

He raised one arm to wrap back around Goemon’s neck, turning his head to kiss Goemon’s cheek and ear. “I tucked my gun under the pillow while I was undressing,” Yata whispered urgently. “Once you come, pull out and roll under the bed.”

“How are you— _hahhh_ —able to think about anything— _hnnngh_ —right now?” Goemon panted, still fucking into Yata desperately. 

_“Ishikawa-dono!”_

The far more polite but unexpected form of address startled Goemon back into focus. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

Yata nodded minutely, half of his mind on the building pleasure and pressure in his body, the other on his targets. If he was wrong, or if he missed a shot, they were doomed. He thought back on his training, on long afternoons on the firing range with Inspector Zenigata, on his observations of Jigen Daisuke’s effortless technique. _Let me do this right_ , he prayed to any god that would listen. _Let me be the hero instead of the sidekick, just this once._

Goemon’s grip on his hips tightened as his pace quickened again, slamming into Yata mercilessly with a snarl of warning. He was close. Yata looked down and pressed his hand against his lower belly, momentarily mesmerized by the way he could feel Goemon’s cock moving inside him, causing the slightest bulge with every thrust. That alone was enough to send Yata careening over the cliff’s edge as he came hard, cock completely untouched. Goemon followed shortly after, shuddering through his own release and pulling Yata close to him in a brief yet encouraging embrace. Then, he pulled out, grabbed his sword, and dove under the bed.

Snatching up his gun, Yata breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, and held it. Five shots rang out in the room, the echoes sharp and metallic. A shout of anger and surprise from Vesper before the speaker was destroyed, then the three cameras, and finally the little green button near one of the other doors that didn’t lead to a staircase. 

There was a flashing light and a persistent chime. Yata fell off the bed and crawled beneath it, Goemon grabbing hold of him and pulling him close. “What did you do?”

“Cut off the video and audio,” Yata said breathlessly, his body shuddering through the orgasm he’d managed to ignore just long enough to perform his task. “And I summoned housekeeping.”

Goemon stared at him incredulously. “You what.”

The door near the green button slowly scraped open. Squeaky cart wheels and shuffling footsteps announced the arrival of the housekeeper, or labyrinth-keeper, or whatever they were called. An elderly male voice chuckled. “Didn’t even take their clothes, they were in such a hurry, huh?”

Goemon and Yata exchanged a nod, then rolled out from beneath the bed, weapons drawn. The old man with the cleaning cart raised his hands in surprise. 

“You know this place better than anyone, I’d guess,” Yata said, his voice and posture admirably composed for a naked man holding a gun. “Vesper can’t hear or see you right now, so I’m going to suggest that you shut down all the traps, show us the way to our friends, and then take us to the exit.”

“Sure, sure!” The old man made a calming gesture with his hands. “No need to point those things at me!”

Yata thought he only meant the gun and the katana, but a glance down confirmed that he was, in fact, still hard. So was Goemon. Tamping down his mortification, Yata grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

They had to take turns hastily dressing, so that the old man (who introduced himself as Guillermo) couldn’t try to escape or contact his boss through other means. Though Goemon looked only slightly disheveled, Yata was missing his underwear and most of his shirt buttons. They had more important concerns, however, so they followed Guillermo through the service passageways until they were reunited with the rest of their companions. 

Jigen and Fujiko had been stranded together, and refused to speak to or even look at one another. They at least seemed glad to see Goemon. Yata noticed that they were similarly disheveled and wondered just how many of these rooms were their captor’s “favorite” rooms. 

His suspicions were confirmed when they found Zenigata and Lupin. The former seemed shellshocked, though he brightened at the sight of Yata and gave him a teary-eyed hug. Lupin, on the other hand, somehow managed to look both smug and sheepish. He had a blossoming love bite on his neck where his ruined shirt couldn’t cover it. 

Guillermo showed them to the exit, relieved to be free of them. “Look, I just do maintenance,” he insisted. “What the Professor does with his property isn’t my business. Just don’t tell him you saw me or that I let you out—it’s a major breach of my contract!”

“Trust us, we won’t breathe a word. We won’t be back anytime soon, either,” Lupin assured him with a cheerful wave. 

“Thank you for your assistance,” Yata said with a bow. Guillermo just shook his head and shuffled away, grumbling to himself. 

Lupin and Zenigata were locked in a staring contest when Yata turned back to them. Zenigata huffed and folded his arms, looking away in surrender. “I’ll let you off this time, Lupin,” he growled, “under the… unusual circumstances.”

A lopsided grin stretched across Lupin’s face. “That’s sweet of you, _Koichi_.”

“Don’t start acting familiar!”

“I’d say we were plenty _familiar_ already, wouldn’t you?”

Zenigata’s shouts and threats devolved into wordless barking, and Yata had to drag him back to where their police car was haphazardly parked on the front lawn. 

Before they drove away, Yata caught Goemon’s eye as the samurai perched atop Lupin’s signature yellow Fiat. Goemon blushed and gave him a nod. Yata smiled and nodded back, a little pink in the cheeks himself. Zenigata caught the exchange and sighed.

“There’s only heartbreak down that road, Yata.” He patted his junior partner on the shoulder. “Trust me on that.”

“Yes, sir,” Yata said automatically, but he was still smiling as he started the car. 

...

_end_


End file.
